


An Honest Messenger

by medusine



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Max/Anne (mentioned), Max/Eleanor (mentioned), Prompt Fill, Silver/Flint (suggested)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12107907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusine/pseuds/medusine
Summary: Max lets Flint know exactly what she thinks of him.





	An Honest Messenger

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for [lyricist-in-love](https://lyricist-in-love.tumblr.com/): “your email password is ‘ibetyouwontguessmypassword’… you are literally the opposite of mysterious”. Except I adapted it to fit into the 18th century. Some expressions are in French, hover over them to see the translation. If that doesn't work, I also put them in the end notes.

Max moved through the tavern. The place was rowdy with the Walrus and the Ranger crews had both got back at the same time; she was impressed that Vane had somehow managed to prevent his men from getting into too many fights with Flint’s.  
  
The cooperation between those two, and between Flint and Rackham, was a miraculous thing. And a fragile thing, too. Every day, she wondered how much longer it would last.  
  
Flint was sitting at the back of the room, in another world. At one time, long ago, he’d looked like a human being. Now, with his shaved head and eyes sharp as knives, he was a demon. Max knew what he and his men did in colonies that defied him. It would be Nassau’s turn, one day, she was sure of it.  
  
“You here to pick up the message?” Flint’s voice was nasal and condescending, and maybe a little drunk.  
  
“I am.”  
  
Max had much better things to do with her time than carry letters around between the tavern and the fort. Had it not been for Anne asking her – and asking nicely, at that – Max wouldn’t have told Rackham where he could stuff his letter.  
  
“What’s the password?”  
  
“The password,” Max said flatly.  
  
“Yeah. If one of us can’t come in person, the messenger has a password.”  
  
“I know.” It was a physical effort for Max not to roll her eyes. He didn’t trust her, which was understandable. What wasn’t understandable was making her say something so stupid.  She took a deep breath, and recited in a monotone: “I bet you’ll never guess my password.”  
  
Flint nodded and handed her the letter. Secret letters carried by messengers with passwords. Boys’ games. “ _Et ils se croient malins, en plus_.”  
  
“If you’re going to insult my intelligence, at least say it loud enough for me to hear.”  
  
She hadn’t expected him to understand French. But then Max didn’t really know much about Captain Flint; she’d barely ever spoken to him before. He’d ignored her when she’d been around for his conversations with Eleanor. He’d barely even reacted that time he’d walked in when she’d been kneeling beneath Eleanor’s desk, between her thighs. It felt like centuries ago.  
  
Flint was still watching her. His eyes weren’t daggers anymore. There was a hollowness to them, a weariness that Max had seen on many a face in the brothel. They said he’d lost his lady friend in Charlestown, and that it had pushed him just a little more towards the edge of sanity. Max sometimes wondered what had made him lose so much sanity before his lady had died.  
  
“Forget it.”  
  
“ _Ayez le courage de vos opinions, mademoiselle._ ” Flint’s heavy accent set Max’s teeth on edge.  
  
“Fine. Who set that password?”  
  
Flint’s eyebrows twitched briefly. “I did. Why?”  
  
“Your password is ‘I bet you wont guess my password’… you are literally the opposite of mysterious.”  
  
This seemed to puzzle him. He tilted his head to the side, thoughtful. After a beat, he met her eyes again. “How’s that?”  
  
“It’s arrogant. It underlines the fact that you believe that you are cleverer than anyone else. It’s very much… you.” She pronounced the last word with utter contempt.  
  
If Flint was insulted, it didn’t show on his face. “Yes, I suppose my being arrogant wouldn’t be a mystery to anyone, would it?”  
  
The picture before Max came into sharp focus, as though she was seeing it anew. Here was an exhausted man playing at being a bloodthirsty pirate, a would-be king who placed himself above everyone else, on account of being better, cleverer and stronger than them. Except he wasn’t, not at the moment. He wasn’t even able to come up with a clever password. And he knew it, and for some reason he didn’t care.  
  
“It isn’t arrogance that will make you worthy of ruling Nassau, you know. Maybe you should think about actually making yourself popular… if that is at all possible for you.”  
  
“Even if that was what I wanted, you’ve made it so that I won’t ever have that sort of power, haven’t you? You, and Rackham…” He stared into her eyes. “And Silver?”  
  
She made sure not to move a muscle. “What about Silver?”  
  
“Well, someone helped you and Rackham secure the Urca gold. As you said before, I think I’m cleverer than most people here, mostly because it’s true. There’s only a handful of people here in Nassau that don’t have shit for brains. Nicholas and Vincent weren’t among them.”  
  
“If you have suspicions, you should take them up with your quartermaster,” Max said, taking a step back. She wasn’t about to get involved in this.  
  
“Why did you trust him?”  
  
She stopped, frowning. “Silver? Who says that I do?”  
  
“You’d barely known him five minutes before the two of you were planning to sell the Urca schedule and make off for who knows where.”  
  
“It was a business transaction.”  
  
“Nevertheless, I wouldn’t do business with someone on whom I couldn’t rely.”  
  
This time, she did roll her eyes. “It was obvious to me, the moment I saw John Silver, that he would do anything in order to survive. I cannot trust him as a person. But his survival instinct? That, I can trust. Or at least, I could.”  
  
Never had Max imagined that Flint would listen to her with such attention and such a thoughtful look on his face. This didn’t seem to be about revenge. Even though he suspected Silver of having stolen the gold from under his nose, Flint didn’t actually want to kill him. Flint hadn’t even wanted to kill him when Silver had stolen that schedule, or he would have done so right then.  
  
“What changed?” Flint’s tone was casual, but Max could tell by the tilt of his head that he was on interested.  
  
“Silver changed. He became your quartermaster.” And he had given up his claim to the gold. Truly, she had not been more pathetic when she had been in love with Eleanor.  
  
“So?”  
  
“So, he is clearly ignoring his survival instincts, and following you instead.”  
  
And there it was. A little glimmer of hope in otherwise dead eyes. Max wasn’t sure Flint deserved hope, but for the well-being of Nassau, he needed to stay alive and get over whatever it was that plagued him. Vane and Rackham would piss and play the gold away within weeks, without Flint’s ambition. Perhaps he didn’t truly want to be king, but if their plan went through, he’d have power, whether she liked it or not.  
  
“A word to the wise.” Max leaned forward on the table, staring Flint in the eye. “If you do not want to be fucked over by John Silver, perhaps you should avoid fucking him over first. You do not have many allies, Captain.”  
  
Max turned and left the tavern. She’d seen exactly what she expected to see in Flint’s eye the moment she used “fuck” and “John Silver” in the same sentence. Captain Flint and John Silver. She was going to have to keep an eye out for them. If they allied, they could become unstoppable.

**Author's Note:**

> The French reads:  
> 1) And they think they’re so clever.  
> 2) Be brave enough to stand up for your opinions, miss (this one sounds better in French, oh well)


End file.
